


No Reservations

by geumsaek



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Photographer, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geumsaek/pseuds/geumsaek
Summary: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.





	No Reservations

**First course**

_Impeccable, innovative, insanely delicious._

_Adjectives that are par for the course when it comes to Do Kyungsoo’s do.sik. Credited for elevating modern Korean cuisine to the world stage, Chef Do is once again shattering expectations with his latest tasting course. His skillful mastery of organic local ingredients and haute technique has ensured do.sik’s claim on the title of South Korea’s Best Restaurant._

The restaurant’s kitchen is empty save for two people. Kyungsoo is cleaning his knives and returning them to their individual cases. Dinner service has finished, and the rest of the staff are in the dining area to clear up. His sous chef, Kim Jongdae, is still on his iPad reading aloud the latest review from The Seoul Times.

“You would think a big guy that looks like Lee Kwangsoo won’t be able to write like this,” Jongdae says, scrolling down the tablet. “Makes all the ingredient hunting across the country worth it, huh?”

Kyungsoo hums in response, continuing with his task.

“You think it was the _samgyetang consommé _that won him over? That went perfect with the crisp chicken skin. Oh, what do you think about doing a duck variation?”

“I think… we should close for two months,” Kyungsoo says nonchalantly, packing away the last few knives left on the counter.

“Yeah, I was also – wait, what?” Jongdae sputters.

“One month?” Kyungsoo attempts to bargain one-sidedly before turning his back on the other chef.

“Were we not reading the same glowing review from Seoul’s top critic?” Jongdae raises his voice.

Instead of replying, Kyungsoo continues his meticulous routine of cleaning up and double checking the kitchen stations for completeness. Tomorrow is Saturday, lunch service is bound to be hectic if he doesn’t get a head start now.

“You literally just got a second Michelin star!”

He purses his lips._ Right_. He was just informed earlier in the day that _do.sik_ finally received a second star in the newly published Michelin guide. It has been three years since he opened the restaurant, high off his success as the sous chef at Alain Ducasse’s three Michelin star restaurant in Hotel Plaza Athénée. After two years there, he had felt ready to open his own place. Do.sik opened to much fanfare, with Kyungsoo being one of the most internationally successful South Korean chefs. It was just a year after opening that he earned a star for his avant garde take on classic Korean cuisine, putting him up against the even the most established Korean chefs. And now, he is one of the few Korean chefs with the honor of having two stars.

“I _personally_ was thinking more along the lines of expanding the place, maybe actually using our second floor,” Jongdae simpers sarcastically. He rounds the main island to huff directly in front of Kyungsoo. “What’s going on, huh? This is like the second time this month you’ve said you wanted to close the restaurant.”

He ignores him but Jongdae presses on, following him as he shelves his case of knives.

“Look, Kyungsoo, this isn’t funny.”

“I wasn’t going for funny.” Kyungsoo exits the kitchen, beginning to unbutton his chef’s jacket and heads towards his office. It was located across the hallway from the kitchen. Most of the restaurant records, recipe research, operations schedules, and other paraphernalia are crammed inside the space. A big whiteboard encompassing almost a full wall is full of sketches, ingredient names, and other little notes on food preparation.

“Okay, then maybe enlighten me,” Jongdae parks himself in front of Kyungsoo’s desk.

He hangs his jacket on the hook and looks at the clock. 11:45 PM. It was too early for him to convince Jongdae he was tired and ready to sleep. He sighs and opens the small fridge in his office, takes out a bottle of _maekgeolli_ he brought over from his trip to Jeju just the other week, and pours the two of them glasses.

“I want to go to Jeju.”

“Jeju,” Jongdae says plainly. “Very enlightening.”

Kyungsoo just nods his head and takes a sip of his drink.

“Would you care to explain how you wanting to frolic in a beach leads to us closing the restaurant?” There’s an edge to Jongdae’s voice, patience clearly wearing thin.

“I want to go on a vacation.”

Kyungsoo wonders if Jongdae’s tight grip on his glass will force it to break.

“We have leaves for that kind of thing. _Vacation leaves_, they’re called.”

“We’ve closed the restaurant for a month before no problem, not sure how now is any different,” Kyungsoo says with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, and you’ve been to Jeju at least twice this month, how is this any different?” Jongdae protests. “And yes, we closed to research on a new menu and renovate. Not for a little vacation.”

He chugs his makgeolli. Not sure how else to explain to Jongdae why he wants to take a break. Granted, his friend is correct. He had been to Jeju quite frequently the past months. But the short overnight trips are not exactly what he would call vacations. In those trips, instead of sunbathing at the beach, he learned a lot about the food culture there. It isn’t so different from Seoul’s, but the staple ingredients and preparations do have some variations. He has lost count of how many restaurants, _pojangmacha, _and market stalls he’d tried in each visit. Kyungsoo picks up his glass and his friend’s half-finished one and dumps them both in the sink on his way out.

“Forget about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jongdae hurries behind him. “Do Kyungsoo, we are not done talking about this.”

“I think we are,” Kyungsoo singsongs and pulls out his keys from his bag, not stopping his stride. “Don’t forget about the red snapper delivery tomorrow at 7. You can just ask Sunyoung to help with prep. And I think we’re getting new interns from the culinary institute so make sure Minseok gets his hands on them.”

He opens the main kitchen doors, nods at the rest of the kitchen staff still in the main dining hall before he heads toward the entrance.

_★★★_

The latest Gucci Spring/Summer campaign looms over the streets of Cheongdam. The models are dressed in bold colors, with a bright pink sequined dress, an emerald green pant suit, and flashy accessories that epitomized maximalism, but the post processed colors of the image are more muted. Ornate but soft, reminiscent of old French Rococo paintings. It is strikingly different to the skyscrapers and modern architecture in the area. Particularly of the unassuming building whose front porch Kim Jongin has been using as a bench for the past hour.

He's not so sure he likes the placement of his latest ad campaign. Preferring it to have been put up near Galleria on the main road or in the Hyundai department store in Samseong at least. Although, he supposes, a photographer doesn’t really have the authority to dictate where his client decides to put up their billboards, no matter his stature and renown.

This particular campaign was shot in an old summer villa in Rome despite it having been winter at the time. He had felt sorry for the models wearing frilly frocks in single digit degrees. He at least had been in thermal wear during the shoot. The upcoming Pre-Fall and Fall/Winter season will also have him shooting thick sweaters and coats in the middle of summer. The fashion calendar always gives him a headache. He’s barely recovered from the latest fashion month that concluded. Six flights in the course of four weeks should be illegal. Jongin could barely tell what day it was most times. He wouldn’t have made it to any of the shows he RSVPed to, if not for his assistant blaring an alarm to his ear every morning. At least the end of March means the next fashion month won’t be until June. And his next overseas shoot is scheduled to be in Japan instead of another European country. He won’t need to be in a plane for longer than two hours.

Jongin leans back against the solid black doors of the building, still staring at the billboard, when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees it’s Sehun calling him.

“Hey, where the hell are you? I thought you landed back from Paris already?” His friend asks the moment he picks up the call.

The photographer sighs, “Yeah, I’m back.”

“Oh, how’d it go? Must have sucked having to stay there even after fashion week was over,” Sehun says.

“It was just a small spread for Vuitton’s new resort collection. Not so bad.”

“Well, they at least pay for your flight and put you up in a nice hotel. That’s more than I can say for some other fashion houses. Anyway, what’s your ETA?”

He checks his watch. “Give me like 15 minutes. Just had to check something around Cheongdam.”

“Well, hurry up. Junmyeon’s waiting for me and I’m not above just leaving your studio keys under the door mat,” Sehun nags before dropping the call.

Jongin sighs and moves to stand from where he’s sitting but immediately finds himself face planted on the floor.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!” A voice cries and he feels a pair of hands grab his shoulders and try to sit him up.

He’s still smarting from the fall when he realizes that the doors he had been leaning against were pushed open while he was trying to stand up. He tries to focus on the person next to him, still profusely apologizing.

“No, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Jongin waves the other off before finally standing up this time. The man is carefully holding his arm as he rights himself.

Jongin shakes his head to clear his vision and notices that the other man is shorter than him, almost only reaching his chin. He’s wearing a ball cap but the light from the streetlamp still illuminates his face well, enough for Jongin to make out the other man’s features. He swallows and prays his cheeks don’t appear bright red because he can feel them warming up as he looks at the other. The two of them are just standing in the landing staring at each other awkwardly, before the man clears his throat and points at the doors.

“Uhm, sorry, dinner service has already ended for tonight,” he says with a soft, low voice.

Jongin’s forehead scrunches in confusion. “Ah, I’m not here to eat.”

“Then why are you in front of a restaurant?”

Restaurant? He didn’t get a good look at the building’s façade, but it didn’t look like any restaurant he’s seen before. “This is a restaurant?” Jongin asks dumbly. “I was just, uhm, sitting.”

The man looks rightfully confused. “Are you alright?”

Jongin feels his cheeks warm up. “Yeah, absolutely. Sorry for blocking your door.”

“Right,” he says slowly, wide eyes carefully searching Jongin. “You have some scratches on your chin. Please come inside, we have a first aid kit.”

He shakes his head and brings a hand up to touch his face. He winces when he feels pain but forces a reassuring smile. “No, I’m fine, I was heading home already anyway.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the other says.

Jongin is not sure what possesses him to ask a question, but he does it anyway. He can blame getting a knock to the head later. “So, you work here? In this restaurant, I mean.”

The man’s fingers grip the strap of his bag tighter and Jongin would have felt offended if he was not aware of how suspicious he looked. “I do. I cook here.”

Jongin opens his mouth to ask another question when he feels his phone vibrate again. His screen flashes Sehun’s name, making him groan in annoyance.

** _oh sehun:_ ** _ nvm, already left just get ur keys from junmyeon tom _

The man uses the pause as an opportunity to leave. “Well, I’ll be going now. If you wish to come back to dine, please make a proper reservation. Goodbye.”

Jongin opens his mouth but can’t find anything else to say to the man. Instead he waves lamely despite the other already having his back turned to him as he walks towards the parking lot. The photographer checks himself and wonders if he really did just get slammed face down to the ground by a very gorgeous man or his addled brain is simply making up a face and deep voice in his memory.

_★★★_

The interiors of Patisserie Privé are a mix of white marble and rose accents. The seats’ upholstery is a suede pink that complements the multitude of pastries showcased in the glass display at the center of the room. Large glass windows open up to a garden of abstract sculptures. The new patisserie is located in the lobby of SUHO Gallery, a privately-owned space in Hannam-dong that hosts exhibitions for all types of modern art that Kyungsoo doesn’t understand. He thinks it suits Baekhyun well.

“How’s the new place treating you?” Kyungsoo asks Baekhyun from his perch at bar. “Your new boss nicer than the French guy?”

“A whole lot better than the hotel, I can tell you that,” the patisserie owner says with a laugh. “No general manager huffing about asking when the next batch of croissants will come out. And Kim Junmyeon isn’t my boss. He’s my landlord, a really overbearing landlord.”

“Well, to be fair, it was your job to bring out the croissants,” Kyungsoo laughs as Jieun, the front of house’s nametag reads, puts down a cappuccino in front of him.

Baekhyun throws him a nasty glance. “I did not suffer through years in _Le Cordon Bleu_ just to make croissants! We worked for Alain Ducasse and that hotel treated me like a run-off-the-mill baker. Didn’t even care I won pastry chef of the year.”

Kyungsoo nods in understanding. “That was a pretty great dessert course. Seulgi was pretty mad you beat her out with what was basically a set of _injeolmi_ truffles.”

“Ha! Tell her she should quit as do.sik’s pastry chef and work for me if she wants the award this year.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “And who’s gonna make my desserts? Jongdae? I’ll be serving ice cream from the tub before that happens.”

“Give him a break. His weird brownies have improved over the years. But speaking of Jongdae,” Baekhyun suddenly leans forward. “What’s this I’m hearing about you packing up and moving to Jeju?”

Kyungsoo squints at Baekhyun. His friends aren’t really known for subtlety or discretion. “He’s being overdramatic,” he says with a sigh. “I literally just asked for a vacation.”

“That will be a month long?” His friend inquires. “You’ve been going to Jeju a lot recently.”

“The food there is good,” he says before shrugging.

“And that’s all there is to it?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He didn’t visit his friend to get another lecture. “If Jongdae put you up to interrogating me, I’m just gonna leave. Chanyeol seems to be the only friend who actually enjoys my company.”

Baekhyun grimaces. “Now look who’s being overdramatic. You’re just as bad as the rest of us.”

“Shut up and get me a croissant, chef.” Kyungsoo points at the display.

“You are actually insufferable,” His friend complains but still gets him a piece. Kyungsoo is thrilled that Baekhyun opened his own place. He can see the other’s excitement in taking charge of his own patisserie, carefully crafting his recipes, what goes on the menu, even little details like the display lighting and packaging. Kyungsoo frowns at his coffee and croissant. He wonders when he’ll feel that kind of excitement with do.sik again.

“Soo, can you watch the counter for like ten minutes? We just gotta pull up pastry boxes from the back,” Baekhyun says without giving him a chance to reply, already walking through the kitchen door with Jieun in tow.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but leaves his seat to stand behind the counter. It was a slow morning. Even the patisserie only had Baekhyun, an assistant baker, and Jieun clocked in. No one really gets coffee in a museum at 8 AM.

“Hyung! Iced caramel latte stat!”

Except for that guy.

Kyungsoo looks up to see a man rushing towards the counter. The man is tall, Kyungsoo notes, and his hair looks like it’s seen better days. He is bundled up in a light camel coat and a blue and green plaid scarf, face framed by wired glasses. And what a face it was. The man’s jaw looks like it belongs in Kyungsoo’s knife collection. Sharp and perfectly molded. His soft lips are plump and provide a lovely contrast against his otherwise chiseled features.

“Oh, you’re not Baekhyun hyung,” the man coughs awkwardly when he notices that Kyungsoo is still staring at him. “I still really need that latte though.”

“Ah yes, wait a sec.” Kyungsoo startles, feeling himself blush at having blatantly stared at a stranger. He looks around for the espresso machine and finds it by the end of the counter. Okay, he can do this. He knows how to use an espresso machine. He has one at his own restaurant. “Caramel latte, yes?”

“Yes please, I’m having it to go,” the man says, pulling out his wallet.

Kyungsoo starts looking through the bottom shelves to find the to go cups. He can still feel the warmth in his cheeks and hopes he can get through preparing this one latte. He grabs the full cream milk and caramel syrup after he’s set the coffee grounds on the machine. The chef can feel the man’s eyes heavy on him and he’s sure his blush spreads down to his neck. Years of not entertaining any dates must be getting to him. He curses himself for always locking himself up in do.sik’s kitchen, away from regular people – well, this man is definitely not regular – because one look at this guy has Kyungsoo bumbling in front of an espresso machine like a part-time trainee.

“It’s you, right? From the restaurant last night,” the stranger says.

He pauses and looks at the customer. “Excuse me?” Was he a guest at the restaurant? Kyungsoo thinks he would have remembered a guest like him. He’s not as sociable or talkative to the guests like Minseok but he makes his rounds on the dining floor when he can.

The man scratches at the back of his neck, almost shy. “I was the one sitting in front of your restaurant last night.”

_Oh_. Kyungsoo takes another look at him and finally takes notice of the small line of bandages on the stranger’s chin. “Are you still hurt?”

“Oh no. The scratches don’t hurt at all. Don’t worry about it,” the other tells him.

Kyungsoo wants to argue that having your face slam against concrete would have definitely hurt but he stays quiet. He remembers that he was suspicious of the stranger waiting in front of do.sik in the middle of the night. He fled the moment he was sure the other wasn’t gravely injured.

“Do you work here too?”

“What?” Kyungsoo looks at him in confusion before the espresso machine beeps letting them know the coffee was ready. He prepares the rest of the latte and brings it forward to the counter.

“I mean, are you a part-timer here too? Like Jieun,” eyes scanning the shop for the girl. “She’s a culinary student.”

Part-timer? Oh. Kyungsoo thought pushing thirty would have stopped people from assuming he was in his early twenties but here they are. “No. Neither a part-timer nor a culinary student. I’m just helping out.”

“I’m Jongin,” the guy says suddenly. Kyungsoo can tell the other didn’t mean to blurt that out because redness begins to bloom across his beautiful skin.

Kyungsoo tries not to dwell on the implications and gets a hold of himself. “Here’s your latte, Jongin.”

Jongin blinks at him before he catches on. “Oh yes. Thank you so much. Sorry about the, uh, yeah. Bye!”

He all but slams down a 10,000 won bill before grabbing the cup and rushing out the door.

Kyungsoo is left staring at the bill on the counter and assessing what just happened. He brings it to the till and is about to punch the order when he realizes he didn’t even care to check how much the drink costs. Well, having a very attractive man bumble about in Kyungsoo’s presence was definitely not a usual occurrence. If his restaurant saw guests like him every day, he at least would have something nice to look forward to.

He’s already seated back on the stool when Baekhyun and Jieun come out of the kitchen with assembled pastry boxes. Kyungsoo is picking at his croissant, still slightly reeling from the man’s intense eyes that watched him prepare the latte.

“Anyone come in?” Baekhyun asks as he stacks the pastry boxes underneath the cashier.

“Yeah, uh, there was a man looking for you. He ordered a caramel latte,” he says. “Also, how much is a caramel latte?”

Baekhyun pauses. “You didn’t make them pay?”

Kyungsoo flashes the bill at him. “I did but I’m not sure if this is enough.”

“Yes, that’s _enough_. Lattes are just 8,500 won. I’m not robbing the people, Kyungsoo.”

He chooses to ignore his friend’s dramatics, thinking instead of how he’s going to get through the rest of the week.

_★★★_

Early on Tuesday, Jongin finds himself in Cheongdam once again. He’s in front of ‘do.sik’, the sign by the door reads. The massive Gucci billboard still a looming presence over him. His black Mercedes is parked on the side of the street blending in with the rest of the affluent neighborhood. Jongin himself fits right in, dressed head to toe in Dior, with a pinstriped caramel wool coat, a black satin button down, and dress pants. There are perks to being an internationally renowned photographer, and getting gifts straight from fashion houses is only one of them.

The restaurant looks different in the daylight. The other night, Jongin wasn’t able to fully see the entirety of the building, really only using it as a vantage point to look at his billboard. In the middle of the night, without adequate lighting, it is very easy to dismiss the seemingly simple building. Now though, he can properly appreciate the architecture. It was practically a plain white box with clean cut corners, except upon closer look, the walls are textured with wavy ridges all over. Sharp cutouts of triangular glass contrast the white walls and shed light inside the building, allowing passersby a preview of the interiors.

Despite being familiar with flashy structures, the photographer is still impressed. Jongin makes a decision then. Just like how he made a decision to take U-Turn and head straight to Cheongdam instead of driving straight to his studio and preparing for the day’s shoots. He walks up to the entrance and hopes he can still make a reservation for this evening. He can see from the outside that the lunch service is ongoing. The tables are filled with locals and tourists alike. He pushes the heavy black doors and comes face to face with the restaurant’s floor manager, standing behind a podium of sorts.

“Good morning, sir. My name is Kibum. Do you have a reservation with us today?” The man asks with a smile.

“Oh, no. I was wondering if I can still make a reservation this evening? For two.” Jongin prays Sehun doesn’t mind a change of plans tonight.

“Well,” Kibum says slowly. “We’re usually booked months in advance but let me just check the appointments for our dinner service.”

Jongin cranes his head to look past the manager still scrolling through the tablet affixed on the stand, to observe the inside of the restaurant. His eyes move from the tables, to the décor, to the double doors that seem to lead to the kitchen. He wonders if the chef from that day is working right now.

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Kibum calls his attention.

He quickly turns to shake his head. “Oh no. Just admiring the interiors.” He’s about to add that _maybe_ he was looking for a particular chef but thinks last minute that that might not get him a reservation.

“Ah, yes. Our executive chef is very particular about _every_ design detail here,” Kibum smiles before redirecting the topic. “You seem to have good luck, sir. We have a cancelled appointment for tonight, and I can give you their reservation instead. Table for two at 7PM. Would that be alright?”

“Absolutely. That would be perfect,” Jongin says. He gives the man his full name and contact details and leaves the restaurant feeling slightly accomplished.

He pulls his car out of his parking spot after sending a text to Sehun that he’s heading over to the studio already. Jongin instantly deflates the moment his car hits the main road, thinking of all the layouts they have to go through that afternoon. This is his third shoot in the last week and March can’t end fast enough. He stretches his neck, trying to relax himself. “At least I have something to look forward to this evening. A dinner that can buy 250 packs of instant ramyeon,” he laughs in the silence of his car.

_★★★_

Kyungsoo is demonstrating to his chefs and service team how he wants the new red snapper course to be plated and served to guests that evening. He skillfully spoons over and spreads a smoked sweet potato purée on a light gray ceramic plate. Then, he places the fillet of red snapper, crispy skin side up, a few inches away from the center, brushes a fragrant _cheongyang_ pepper infused oil over the skin, and finally tops it with crispy shallots.

“So, not so bad right?” The chef offers the plate to the team. “This will replace the corvina we served with the last menu, since this is more in season. Make sure your pan is nice and hot, so the skin doesn’t break off from the fillet, alright?” He says as a final word to Sunyoung, the line cook in charge of the fish station.

He lets the team get started on their own dinner and goes out to the dining floor area to do final checks. They had about one more hour before dinner service and he wants to make sure everything is set.

Minseok, do.sik’s manager, greets him as he enters the floor. “So, we’ve got the usual 30 covers tonight. 2 birthdays, an anniversary. Most are repeat diners, but we got a cancellation from Mr. Jung, so we’ve got a first timer coming in.”

Kyungsoo nods and continues with his walk through. “Sure, don’t forget to instruct Seulgi about the celebrations, so we can prepare complimentary desserts. No allergies for the new customers?”

“Kibum didn’t say anything,” Minseok says and follows the executive chef as he moves towards the bar of the restaurant.

“Has Sooyoung shown you the new wine pairing list yet?” Kyungsoo asks. “I sampled some of the artisanal wine she brought in from that sommelier in Itaewon. I think we can include them in the new pairing course.”

“Not yet, but I’ll see about including them in the procurement budget,” Minseok says as he notes it on his iPad.

He continues checking the rest of the floor, making comments and suggestions as they go along. “And what about the interns coming in? The one from the culinary institute?” He asks, remembering the endorsement letter from the school’s head of admissions.

“Yeah, they’re starting tomorrow during the lunch service. I’ll have them work on the floor first before letting them shadow any of the line cooks.” Minseok says. “Might have them do dish duty too, for a little sense of… humility. You know how those culinary school kids can get.”

Kyungsoo turns to him. “You better be talking about Jongdae.”

Minseok gives him a smile and Kyungsoo does not like where this is headed.

“Hmm, but I think it’s not Jongdae that wants to stop restaurant operations for their little getaway,” Minseok tries to appear innocent.

“You too? All of you are gossips,” Kyungsoo says, exasperated. “We are running a Michelin star restaurant–, “

“_Two_ Michelin stars.”

“–where is the professionalism?”

“Dunno, maybe it flew all the way to Jeju,” the manager quips.

Kyungsoo sighs in frustration. “Look, nothing happened yet. I haven’t booked any flights. I haven’t prepared anything to close the place. So, all of you need to go back to doing your jobs. Most _especially_ that man that has the nerve to call himself a sous chef when all he does is talk smack.”

“Kyungsoo, if you really needed that kind of break, you know we can handle do.sik by ourselves, right?” Minseok says instead. “We’ve got the tasting course set for the next few weeks. All you do is glare at everyone anyway.”

“You–,” he starts but Minseok puts up a hand to stop him.

“I’m serious. We know how to run this place. So, if you need a breather, let me know. I’m sure if we gather up all your unused leaves since we opened, you can go on a vacation for three months.”

He frowns. “I’ll think about it. This doesn’t mean I approve of your gossiping.”

“Whatever you say, chef. Make sure you grab a plate off family meal before service starts,” Minseok says before leaving him.

Kyungsoo takes a last sweeping look across the floor before heading back inside the kitchen. Some of the staff have started eating their dinner, filling themselves up before a hectic service. Kyungsoo scans the room before he finds the man he is looking for. Jongdae is at his station, placed right before the pass where servers take the finished plates to be served to the guests. The sous chef is preparing the uni foam that will be served with their squid ink _jjajangmyeon,_ while Kyungsoo watches him.

“Is the executive chef supposed to be lounging around right before service?”

Kyungsoo purses his lips. “Is my best friend supposed to be gossiping with our nosy friends _and staff _about me?”

Jongdae gasps indignantly and puts his mixing bowl down. “Okay first of all, I was not gossiping. I was merely sharing an anecdote as a concerned friend to our other concerned friends.”

“It _is_ gossip when you are discussing things that are none of your concern,” he says.

“Oh shush, anything involving do.sik is also my concern,” Jongdae says snippily and turns back to his foam. “Anyway, did your mom call you yet? I’m assuming her majesty had some words to say.”

“Of course, she did.” Kyungsoo says as he leans his hip against the counter. “Asked about my pathetic love life and also why do.sik didn’t get three stars.”

“Ah, only a mother’s love,” Jongdae muses.

Kyungsoo received a call from his mother the night the new Michelin guide for Seoul got published. The same way she called immediately when the list of Asia’s 50 Best Restaurants was released. “_Well, at least you’re number one in Korea. Just imagine if you were number three for that too, right dear?”_ It was the same song and dance they have been having since he decided to pursue culinary arts instead of a regular college program. His family likes to pretend that they are progressive and supportive of their children’s career choices. But they are only as supportive as they are successful. His older brother took up Korean studies in university, and while his parents were terrible at hiding their disappointment, they’ve toned down their _strong _opinions when Seungsoo became one of the youngest professors at Seoul National University. He’s convinced the only reason his father allowed him to cook for a living was that he got accepted into Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. At least then, he could tell his golfing buddies that his son was good enough to get into a European school. He imagines he’d have been forced to enter Yonsei or SNU too had that not been the case. “_You know your life is your choice, Kyungsoo. But I hope your choices will reflect your family, too.”_

“Tell Mrs. Do and her friends to come over soon, I promise to make the fancy beef salad she likes,” his friend winks at him.

“You just worry about your foam that’s about to deflate, chef,” Kyungsoo says, laughing when he hears Jongdae let out a small shout as he walks away.

_★★★_

“You want to what?” Sehun asks as he rifles through a rack of clothes.

“Dinner. I want to have dinner,” Jongin says, pressing random buttons on the back of his camera to appear casual. They had just finished an editorial shoot for Vogue Korea’s May issue. The cover model is one of the country’s most famous actors. Except, Jongin doesn’t really watch too many dramas and is just thankful the actor is not the arrogant superstar type that expects everyone to know who they are.

“Weren’t we already? I told Junmyeon not to wait up for me since we’re getting bibimbap later.”

“Oh uhm, I was thinking of another place actually,” Jongin says with hesitation.

The stylist stops his task and turns to his friend. “And where did you want to go instead?”

“There’s this restaurant I’ve been meaning to try. It’s called do.sik.”

“Do.sik?” Sehun’s face is calculating as he stares Jongin down. “The one in Cheongdam?”

Jongin nods hesitantly.

“You don’t like fine dining,” Sehun narrows his eyes. “You hate every restaurant I take you to during fashion week. And I took you to Alinea. Candy balloons!”

“It was the pretentious New York air.”

“We were in Chicago!”

“Well, I didn’t like the one in New York either.”

Sehun looks like he wants to strangle him. “You didn’t like Cosme in New York, already one of the best restaurants in the world, but you want to try do.sik.”

Jongin nods resolutely this time.

“You know the portions are still gonna be small, right?”

Jongin _knows_. But if Jongin has already gone through all of do.sik’s Instagram posts, Sehun doesn’t need to know.

“Ugh, if you don’t want to come just say so,” the photographer complains.

“No, no, I’ll come,” His friend raises a hand to cut him off. “I wanna see you sit through a fine dining tasting menu without complaining once.”

“Honestly, you talk like I only eat instant ramyeon,” Jongin says.

“Yeah, because you have the taste buds of someone that doesn’t travel to fashion capitals monthly,” the stylist counters. “And don’t even try. I’ve never seen another Gucci carry-on filled with as much ramyeon packs as yours.”

“I just like food that are easy to eat,” Jongin rationalizes.

“Huh, well let’s see how easy to eat do.sik’s food is later,” Sehun gives him a sarcastic grin before walking off with a bundle of leather jackets. “Tell your assistants to finish packing up, Mr. Gourmand. Can’t wait for tonight’s dégustation!”

Jongin and Sehun pull up into do.sik’s parking space just ten minutes before their reservation. “How did you even manage to get us a table? I had to book like three weeks in advance for mine and Junmyeon’s anniversary,” Sehun says as they climb the front steps to the entrance.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Jongin brushes him off.

Sehun quickly grabs his elbow. “Oh my god, you little shit, is this why you were late this morning?”

“Hey, I wasn’t late.” He uses Sehun’s grip on him to drag him through the doors.

His friend is still laughing to himself when a man approaches them. He is different from the floor manager from that morning, but this man also had catlike features.

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Minseok, and I welcome you to do.sik. Do you have reservations for this evening?”

“Yes, under Kim Jongin,” he says in reply.

Minseok quickly scans through the tablet in his hand. “Great, you’re right on time. Please follow me to your table.”

Their table is placed right by one of the triangular windows. Once they are settled in, Jongin takes the time to fully appreciate the interiors of the restaurant. The large glass pane seems to span the entirety of the wall, almost reaching the ceiling. The tables are widely spaced, providing the wait staff wide berth when serving the guests. The light fixtures looked like the modern sculptures in Junmyeon’s museum, giving brightness to the place without being too harsh on the eyes. The crowd somehow felt livelier tonight than his visit that morning, chatters from different tables floating around the room. He thinks the bottles of expensive wine laid out in each table contributed a lot to this atmosphere.

A different man appears next to Minseok, dressed in a white linen button down and black trousers. “This is Jaehyun. He will be attending to you this evening, so please if you have any requests, just let him know,” Minseok says before taking a bow and leaving them.

The server, Jaehyun, provides a menu for each of them. “Tonight’s dinner is fifteen courses, highlighting the seasonal ingredients of our beautiful country. Our team has worked very hard to provide you an incredible dining experience tonight.”

Jongin can feel himself start to frown at the man continuing to drone on about other information about do.sik and its accomplishments. He looks up when he feels Sehun kick him under the table.

_What?_ He raises his eyebrow in question.

“Jaehyun, I’m sorry but my friend here is new to the fine dining experience. Please if you could describe to him what we should expect for tonight. And if you have a wine pairing menu,” Sehun prompts him.

“Absolutely, let me just get that for you and I’ll be sure to explain our plates in detail as they come out the kitchen.”

Jaehyun bows to them and heads over to the bar area presumably to fetch the wine list for them.

“Why would you do that?” Jongin hisses.

“Are you complaining?” Sehun smiles at him. “You said you wanted to experience fine dining and so we will. The excessive descriptions are part of the package.”

Jongin pouts and stares angrily at the menu instead. He can barely understand the dishes being described. Fine dining menus shouldn’t be foreign to him. Fashion weeks are full of invitations to dinner parties at the most exclusive restaurants with some of the craziest food he’s seen. But those experiences generally fly over Jongin’s head. He was always hungry after a day of moving from show to show that the tiny portions made to _liven up the palate_ do not appeal to him. More often than not, he would pass by a Five Guys or order a big plate of steak from the hotel’s room service after those dinners.

Jongin sighs when Jaehyun returns with the wine pairing list and starts to describe each and every type of alcohol they will be served that night. He sees a self-satisfied smirk on Sehun’s face and starts regretting even bringing him here. Maybe his assistant would have been a better choice. Jaehyun leaves them with two glasses of local wine and _amouse-bouche,_ whatever that meant, and promises to be back quickly with their first course.

“So, is this where you were the past days? Pitifully trying to get a reservation?” Sehun asks, taking a sip of the glass of wine they were served.

“No. Yes. I only came because the Gucci S/S campaign billboard is right next to this place,” he tries to explain.

Sehun looks at him pointedly. “And you thought hey, the white building right next to my billboard looks like a great place to have a meal?”

His friend’s sarcasm has leveled up since they were in high school. Jongin opts to ignore him and starts on what looks like deep fried perilla leaves. The server also left them two types of dipping sauces, and he dips the leaf in one of them. Jongin’s eyes pop open the moment he feels the crunch of the leaf in his mouth. The snack tastes light despite being obviously deep fried, and perfectly flavored. It felt like eating regular chips except the flavor profile is not something Jongin is used to. It is a distinctly Korean flavor but somehow, he thinks he’s never had anything like it.

“You know what, fine. I won’t force it out of you,” Sehun says all sagely, starting to munch on the appetizer too. “I’m sure you’ll tell me yourself by the eighth course and you’re begging me to leave.”

“This dinner is gonna be 250,000 won. I am not going waste that money.”

Sehun clucks his tongue. “Wish you had that mentality when we wasted my 200 dollars at Odette. So, what do you think?”

“About what?” He asks in the middle of another bite.

“Good, huh?”

Jongin pauses, realizing he ate more than half the plate of the appetizer. “I hate you. This is way better than any of the weird places you’ve taken me.”

“You just have a weird palate than can only eat junk and Korean food,” Sehun says. “Should’ve figured only a Korean fine dining restaurant can convert you.”

“I don’t see you for two weeks and this is how you treat me,” Jongin complains.

“I was with you in Paris, drama queen. You were alone for less than a week.”

Jaehyun returns with their first course. Five Ages of Kimchi, the server had called it. The food is served in what looked like a traditional palace tray, high quality brassware with five hollowed circles that each hold a different preparation of kimchi. Jongin is intrigued to say the least. Most of his kimchi comes from his mother, if not from the convenience store near his place. He barely cooks too, meaning his kimchi just accompanies whatever food he has delivered.

“We hope you can have special experiences while eating the seemingly humble kimchi. Each type of kimchi on your plate is sourced from five different regions of Korea, and they are all prepared in the locality’s specialty with a do.sik touch,” Jaehyun says and bows to signal his leave.

Suffice to say that Jongin has never had kimchi cooked in the way any of the ones on his plate have been. Just by looking, he can obviously tell they are kimchi but each one tastes so different from the other that Jongin is rendered speechless. The succeeding courses also leave Jongin in awe, much to Sehun’s smug satisfaction. Each dish had a specific traditional Korean recipe and ingredient as its base but visually are almost unrecognizable to Jongin. But the moment he tastes them, foreign yet familiar flavors explode on his tongue, and he feels a renewed appreciation for his home country’s cuisine.

“You are actually enjoying this way more than I thought you would,” Sehun says, watching him scrape the pommes purée from their _gamjatang_ inspired course with his spoon.

“Everything tastes insane, I could cry. How am I supposed to tell my mom her food is still my favorite?” Jongin groans, closing his eyes to fully appreciate the flavor in his mouth. “This isn’t even like any of those pretentious places you forced me to eat at. I’m not even mad at the portions.”

“No, I think do.sik is as pretentious as they come. You’re just a biased Korean grandmother deep inside,” Sehun says.

“You think fine dining is pretentious but still blow loads of money on it.”

“Self-awareness is key, my friend.”

They discuss their plans for the coming months in between their bites. Sehun has closets full of designer pull outs he has to assign to his list of celebrity clients, on top of their joint work for some other fashion magazines. His friend congratulates the both of them for not needing to fly to a different continent until after May. Jongin just laughs. They like to complain about the jetlag and bone deep exhaustion from their jobs but they both still love what they do.

Enjoying the surprisingly delicious and filling food, along with a much needed catch up with his best friend, Jongin _almost_ forgets the real reason he wanted to have dinner at do.sik that night. Jongin hears the man’s deep voice before he sees _him_. He and Sehun are on their sixth course for the evening, a soft-shell crab tempura served with a sauce that Jongin cannot even begin to explain. His friend is busily eating the crab with a fork and knife like the pretentious snob he is, letting Jongin freely ogle the chef from where he sits. Dressed in a pristine chef’s jacket, hair styled up, and black rimmed glasses framing his face, the man is as eye catching as the dishes Jongin has seen tonight.

“Absolutely as delicious as the last time we were here, Chef Do. Well deserved two stars this year!” The woman at the table the chef is standing next to exclaims.

“Well, I’m happy no one will post bad things about us then,” the chef laughs. 

Jongin is still unabashedly staring at the chef when he feels a sudden chill up his arm. His table is oddly silent. He is sure Sehun was just discussing his styling options for a number of clients attending the Cannes Film Festival. He turns to see his friend raising a perfect brow at him.

“What?”

“I knew I’d figure it out within the night,” the other says simply.

Jongin gulps. “Figure what out?”

“Nothing,” Sehun says. “Finish your crab, Jongin.”

Jongin frowns at Sehun then turns his head to catch a glimpse of the man again. Except, the group of women are now by themselves and Jongin is left wondering where the other had gone off to.

When their tenth course is placed on the table, Jongin can barely stop his jaw from dropping. A matte white ceramic plate of squid ink _jjajangmyeon_ is served with ribbons of pickled yellow and pink radishes and layered with a bright orange _uni_ foam. Well, that is how Jaehyun had explained the dish. Jongin would have never figured out what the plate is by himself. The contrast of the colors, though, he could appreciate. The bright pops of color of the radishes and _uni_ foam beautifully complement the glossy black noodles.

“I’m sorry I ever made fun of fine dining,” Jongin tells the plate of _jjajangmyeon_. He pulls out his phone to take a picture of the dish.

“Oh my god, please don’t talk to the food.”

Jongin adjusts the settings on his camera app to get the perfect lighting on the plate and continues to take photos. “I regret not taking photos of the other plates.”

“Every day I ask how Junmyeon is your cousin. My perfect boyfriend doesn’t deserve an idiot in his family,” Sehun sighs, starting to break apart the perfectly twirled noodles with his chopsticks. Jongin follows suit and once again, he finds himself speechless that evening. He’s obviously tried seafood _jjajangmyeon_ before, but this is otherworldly. He feels as if he’s seaside in Jeju, the breeze briny with salt and the sound of the waves completing the ambiance.

He’s in the middle of chewing off the noodles he can’t fit in his mouth when he hears Sehun start talking to someone. Jongin looks up, black noodles hanging off his mouth, and comes face to face with the chef himself, standing next to a bewildered Minseok. He quickly grabs a napkin to hide his mouth and finishes his bite. He can see Sehun looking at him in mild disgust.

“Hello again, gentlemen. I would like to introduce you to our executive chef, Do Kyungsoo,” Minseok says gesturing at the man beside him.

“Good evening, I’m very happy to welcome new guests to the restaurant. I trust your dinner has been going well?” The chef, _Kyungsoo_, asks them in his perfectly deep and mellow voice.

Sehun rolls his eyes and clears his throat loudly when Jongin just keeps staring at the chef. “Yes, dinner was wonderful. It’s my friend here that insisted he wanted to try the restaurant tonight.”

Kyungsoo’s eyes land on Jongin and he hopes none of the squid ink remain on his teeth. “Everything’s been amazing.” He manages to say.

“I’m glad then,” Kyungsoo says, his lips pulling into a warm smile.

Jongin realizes he’s been holding his breath for too long when he almost chokes on air. Kyungsoo, however, doesn’t seem to notice. “Well, we’ll leave you to finish the rest of the courses. We hope to see you again soon,” the chef says before walking away with Minseok.

“You are so embarrassing, and I am actually ashamed to be seen with you,” Sehun says from across the table, grimace visible. “This is why none of us ever try to set you up.”

That fires him up before he can deflate from the chef apparently not recognizing him. “I do _not _need to be set up.”

Sehun snorts. “Please, the last time you dated someone was some girl three years ago, then you found out you were gay.”

Jongin blanches. “That is not dinner conversation. _At all_.”

“How can you even say you’re gay if you haven’t been with a man?” Sehun questions, obviously trying to rile him up.

“You have less than five seconds to stuff the rest of those noodles in your mouth.”

Jongin finishes the rest of the tasting course distractedly, his eyes glancing around the room. He’s unsure if he should feel deflated the other didn’t recognize him, or thankful. Because catching someone with noodles hanging off their mouth in the same week they saw them faceplanted on the floor is surely not going to leave a good impression. Sehun, for his part, seems to have forgotten everything and is thoroughly enjoying their dessert. The _dalgona_ tuille laid on top of a perfect scoop of vanilla bean ice cream is a clear allusion to the popular street food. However, instead of a simple heart or star depressed into the honeycomb candy, it is a complicated lace work that formed a _mugunghwa_. It almost hurt Jongin to break the lace candy, but the sweetness he tastes with the coolness of the ice cream makes it worth it.

After they’ve paid for the dinner, Sehun goes out first to fetch the car from the parking lot, volunteering to drive them home. Jongin takes the chance to walk towards the manager from earlier.

“Hello again sir, how was your dining experience tonight?” Minseok smiles politely as he sees him approach.

“It was lovely. In fact, I wanted to ask if there are vacant tables in the coming weeks?”

“Let me check that for you. For two, yes?” The manager asks.

“No, uhm, just for one,” he says, trying not to shuffle his feet in nervousness.

Jongin can see the man assess him carefully but he’s grateful Minseok only says, “Sure, let me see what I can do, Mr. Kim.” He watches the manager go through the reservations list, hoping he gets this done before Sehun calls him out to the driveway. “I only have an available table for our dinner service next Saturday, is that alright?”

Jongin sighs. Next weekend, he’ll be in Tokyo shooting an editorial spread for Vogue Japan. “I’m not free then, is there any other available date?”

“Our schedule looks to be better the week after that when April starts, but most are for our lunch service already, I’m afraid.”

“Lunch is fine!” He says hurriedly. “I don’t mind, when is it?”

Minseok turns the tablet to him, letting him see the availability for the coming weeks.

“Please reserve a table for me on these dates,” he says pointing at different dates on the calendar. When he doesn’t get an affirmative, he glances at Minseok only to find him looking at him in what seems to be disbelief.

“Mr. Kim, let me know if I’m understanding this correctly. You would like a reservation for one person for every week of April?”

“That’s allowed, right?” He asks hesitantly, unsure of fine dining etiquette.

“Of course. We’re looking forward to having you here next month, sir,” Minseok says brightly at him. Jongin tries to ignore the teasing tone in the man’s voice.

Jongin exits do.sik and gets in the car quickly before Sehun can attempt to honk at him. He gives a quick glance at the billboard staring him down and smiles. The billboard is perfect right where it is.

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously my first attempt at fic. Oops. I couldn't let go of the idea of Michelin-starred chef Kyungsoo so here we are. I only have a rough outline of where this will go, so here's to hoping I finish this by the time Kyungsoo gets out of service. ✌️


End file.
